The Conviction
by WildAshChronos
Summary: I used to know someone... a very long time ago. She was many things in the time that she lived, breathed, and moved. I can't say that my recollection of her all those years ago is entirely accurate. After all, it has been decades since this happened, and as old as I am, sometimes my mind fogs over, and I forget who... who she was. Well, they-SHE stood apart. I know that much now.
1. Chapter 1

The festivities were filled with laughter, smiles, and young children running through the streets as they too, spread the joy. It was July 14th, 2013, and the citizens of France were celebrating their independence with some of the most elaborate and fantastic festivities ever seen in Paris. Though, she had seen better elsewhere, a girl thought slyly, remembering some of the absolutely insane parties she had gone to before accepting her true destiny, and becoming what Fate had made her to be.

However, this particular girl was not in the square, celebrating with her people as she had for years before. To be brutally honest, she was running for her life, jumping from rooftop to rooftop as several soldiers shot at her. She just needed to make it to the alley off of Oceanus Avenue, two blocks away. If she made it there, she would lose them in hedge maze that never stayed the same.

Only someone who had grown up around the maze, and constantly traveled through it would be able to navigate it with the skills she had. It was the fifty-fourth day of the cycle, and she knew that there was an opening in the avenue that would close up in seven minutes and sixteen seconds. She had run the distance she needed to travel in less time, but she would need every precious second with these special ops forces on her ass. Honestly, she thought that Le Président de la République française wasn't coming until late that night, so unless she was wrong, and she never was, they were sending soldiers out for no good reason, other than to make them sweaty and waste perfectly good ammunition shooting at her!

But with her being all too aware of the danger these men posed to her well-being, and the protection of the Order, she was forced to keep her mouth shut, stop whining, and run, losing them in the maze. As long as she didn't get shot, she'd be okay.

 **Six minutes.**

Swearing, the girl ducked behind a chimney, sticking her head out to peer around the edge just ever so carefully. Bullets struck the bricks right by her head, chipping the roasted clay blocks, and letting the pieces fall to the ground. Deciding to escape with clever behavior rather than let her ego get the better of her, she looked behind her shoulder at the clothesline. She took her chances, sprinting for the thin rope and cutting it, her heart beating rapidly as she swung across the filthy river, letting go of the twine without hesitation, not worried about how dirty she would get. She had been soaked in the blood of several people, her white robes dyed entirely dark red one time.

The water was still, and the soldiers ran across the bridge, thinking that she had gone all the way across. After all, no one in their right mind would jump in the river. Then again, she was considered to be crazy by her comrades, and they all jumped in rivers just as filthy as this, so this wasn't exactly abnormal behavior for her. Scotty had input his unwelcome two cents. "You're a talent, girl. How did you learn to piss people off like that?" He had asked sarcastically, and all his friends had laughed at he only girl in their group of friends.

She had snorted, and waved his comment off, knowing it wasn't exactly a secret that she didn't really give two shits about the consequences, and just spoke her mind, which usually got her in trouble. When she was sure the guards were far enough away, a white hood slowly began coming out of the water as she walked toward the bank by the sewer entrance.

 **Five minutes.**

As soon as she had rung out her hair of the water, and clamped it into a messy bun, the young girl ducked her head a split second before a bullet grazed the side of her face, painfully tearing the skin on her face open before it embedded itself in the wall behind her. That had hurt more than she would care to admit, and the burning streak of pain across her face was already beginning to bleed.

Jumping up, she barely managed to grab the edge of the ground above, hoisting herself up with no effort and jumping on the fence that prevented innocent civilians from accidentally falling into the filthy water below. Crouching, she moved quickly along the beam without faltering once as she retained her balance. They wouldn't dare shoot once she got into the crowd of civilians she would disappear in.

Standing up fully and jumping off the thin bar, she somersaulted before getting back on her feet again, and burst into a full out sprint with one destination in mind. If she got into the tavern across the square, she'd be able to climb up the three flights of stairs, jump out the farthest window at the end of the hallway of the rooms, and get back on the rooftops.

 **Four minutes.**

The large crowd of bystanders watched in astonishment as she shoved her way through the mass of people in her way, rushing across the square. The gunfire had ceased, and all she needed to do was successfully lose her pursuers as she ran across the rooftops. She was so engrossed in avoiding the soldiers that the memory of tripping on a particular stone every time she made a beeline for her escape through this square evaded her mind.

Just as it always had, her foot caught itself in the jagged stone edge that stuck up out of the ground, and with an exclamation that wouldn't have been found in any PG movies, she hit the ground with a painful thud and a loud pop that made everyone around her flinch. She had just, rather painfully in all honesty, set her back into place, with one solid snap. Writhing in pain and mouth opened wide in a silent scream of pain, she rolled over onto her back to see how close the soldiers were.

When she saw one just a few feet behind the ring of people that stood around her, she instantly pushed herself up and continued her sprint, dodging hands that reached out to grab her or yank her hood off.

It was no secret that if you caught a hooded figure running amuck in France, you would be handsomely rewarded by Le Président quite handsomely. Silently cursing the fact that as of right now, there was a Templar leader of France, she ran her way through the open door, jumping over tables and hurrying past the bartender, briefly greeting him before darting into the stairwell.

 **Three minutes.**

She was relying solely on her memory at this point, instantly going left and taking a right down another hall, and looking through the open window that she kept her gaze fixed on. The curtains were torn, bloody, and matted from the numerous times she'd jumped through that window, so the landlord kept them tied back to not replace them. Good old Paris... always looking for more ways to keep money for yourself and scam everyone else on the way.

She jumped through with a practiced dive, tumbling down the roof as soon as she'd made it safely through. Unfortunately, she hadn't done this in awhile, meaning she hadn't done her calculations as well as she had when she had always ran from the guards because they caught her stealing cheese, apples, and food in general when she lived on the streets. When she stopped rolling down the rooftop, and reached for the metal beam that hung between the two lowest parts of the rooftops, she realized too late that her mental math had been way off, and she swung her entire body to barely grip onto the edge of the makeshift bridge.

The thick, heavy, metal beams groaned and whined under its newfound weight, and she knew that it was only a matter of time before they collapsed. Fearfully, she reached one hand over and gripped the beam further along the path. Dangling some forty-feet above the ground was incredibly dangerous, especially when you had pursuers who wanted to shoot you.

 **Two Minutes.**

Her right hand followed her left, and she grunted as she kept herself up with only one hand, even if it was for just a breif moment. Her left reached out again, and she gasped when she missed, instantly flinging her arm to wrap it around. She wasn't afraid of being shot at, that was part of her work, but heights were her mortal enemy, something she had been afraid of ever since she could remember. If you slipped, you fell. And if you fell, you couldn't stop. And if you couldn't stop, you hit the ground. And if you hit the ground, you died.

It was really that simple; that terrifying.

It was that fear, flowing through her entire being, that drove the trembling, struggling female to put one gloved hand in front of the other, finally swinging her body weight to catch both of her feet on the edge of the rooftop, pushing herself up with great caution. Her arms flailed as she struggled not to fall backwards, leaning as far forward as she could. Stumbling forward with a painful " _Oomph_ ," she regained her balance and began running again, certain that her escape was now imminent.

It truly was unfortunate that she wasn't known for planning ahead in case of any disruptions in her plan. In all honesty, her plans weren't always the most solid, and though she was usually able to pull tricks out of the back of her mind, she honestly felt like she was stumbling and falling as she went about her business.

 **One Minute.**

Her thick, leather boots which had seemed practical and useful when running from gunfire, felt like they were slowing her down, though they truly didn't weigh much at all. Her weapons seemed to rattle too loudly, and her pistol's constant smacking of her outer thigh made her feel like the entire army could hear her and was hot on her tail.

Blood rushed through her ears, and she yelped when some one from above fell, clad in dark blue robes. They pushed her, and she seemed to understand what they were trying to say. The garden was a block and a half away, but she had almost no time to get there after her screw ups. Breathing deeply, she ignored her screaming lungs and burst into a sprint, the figure clad in blue behind her with apparent ease. She had been running for almost an hour now, and as much as it killed her to admit it, she didn't have the stamina Scott had, and it just wasn't working out for her. She was a sprinter, not a distance runner.

But now her limits would be tested, because she was racing the clock.

 **40 seconds**.

Her limbs ached, and she felt as if she would pass out. Dizzy and lightheaded, she pushed herself harder, knowing that she would be able to stop as soon as she was safe, but she had to make it in enough time first. Her companion leaped over the gap between the buildings, passing her, and irritating the proud fighter. She leaped after them, and soon found herself ahead once more; she would not give up her lead this time.

 **20 seconds.**

She could see the place she was going to duck in, it wasn't too far now, just two buildings over from where she was now. She leaped over an alley again, and looked for her usual way down into the alleyway, hoping to see no guards.

 **15 seconds.**

There weren't any, but her close friend waited, their blue robes blowing in the wind as they stood in the entrance, motioning for her to come along.

 **10 seconds.**

She ran down the long alley, and the hedge began to seal once more, the shrubbery sliding to close the entrance.

 **5 seconds.**

She wasn't going to make it in time.

 **4 seconds.**

She was too slow, wearing too many heavy things.

 **3 seconds.**

Her friend's terrified blue eyes looked at her from underneath her hood, and she tried to hold to the door from shutting to no avail.

 **2 seconds.**

She was a yard away, the hedge was closing, but she needed to make it, else be captured and killed by the military forces hot on her trail.

 **1 second.**

She didn't think, she didn't have time to. She jumped, feeling the hedge's leaves scratch at her fabric covered legal, and trying to catch on her shoe laces.

She hit the ground and somersaulted until she managed to get back on her feet, and look at the dark blue robed, but now hoodless girl behind her.

"Cutting it a bit close," She said slyly, though the smile on her friend's scratched up, grass stained face didn't diminish. "You really are crazy."


	2. Chapter 2

Grinning at the feel of adrenaline that was undoubtedly running through her veins, the blue Assassin walked over to where the chocolate brunette lied on the ground.

She rolled her eyes, and waved her friend's half-hearted comments away. "Whatever, Sammy. You had fun, just admit it." She said, slowly standing up and grinning.

She scoffed, and playfully punched her in the arm. "Ashley, you need to grow up." Samantha retorted, crossing her arms.

Ashley laughed. "You need to more than me, Sam." She retorted. "Even Scott says so."

Looking at Ashley with a skeptical gaze, she crossed her robed arms and her blue eyes glimmered playfully as she watched her friend's movements. "Since when do you listen to what Scott says?" She asked, remembering his comment on her ocean blue robes as soon as she had gotten them.

Snickering, she shrugged, though answered anyways. "Since he said that you were less mature than me." Ash admitted, grinning as she began to walk deeper into the maze, knowing that Sam would follow.

Samantha did follow, but she didn't seem happy about Ashely's reply. "Yet you're the one who almost got killed by the French Armed Forces." She retorted irritably, watching Ashley fiddle with her array of throwing knives. "I don't see why you have to wear robes just like those of Altaïr, your 'great' ancestor. They make you a target."

She turned around and frowned at Samantha, highly offended. "Then why do you wear dark blue? Last time I checked, not even the river was that color." Ashley was proud of her ancestry, and it was no secret that she was just as talented as Altaïr, if not more so. At 19 years of age, a decade of training under her belt, and three years of apprenticeship under one of the council members themselves, the female Assassin of the 21st century had more than proven herself, and her true career had yet to begin.

Every member of the brotherhood knew the tale of Ashley Dorian. It was common knowledge. "Alright, I get it, you're glad that you're Altaïr's greatest descendant, okay?" She said defensively, earning a smug look from her friend, encouraging her to go on, convinced she had won this particular argument. "But you're just as reckless as he was, and that isn't always something we can afford nowadays!" Samantha continued, her pleading eyes locked with Ashley's own irked ones.

Scowling, the brunette turned her head away, ignoring her friend's obvious worries. "That's rich, coming from the Persian." She snapped, not caring if she offended Sam in the least. "You're just as reckless as your war-crazed emperor, Xerxes!" Ash's voice was cold, and her eyes emotionless, and impossible to read now, and any other human being, Assassin or not, would have run as far as possibly humane from her if they saw her look.

But she couldn't help herself, and Samantha burst into laughter, giggling as if Ashley's cold words had seemed like child's play. In fact, though she was highly offended, she knew that Xerxes, the Persian ruler that had started the Peloponnesian war over a thousand years ago, before Altaïr had even been born, and that Ashley was obviously misinformed. She was not related to Xerxes, not even closely, and Ashley's usually calculating and witty brain had said quite possibly the dumbest thing in the history of mankind.

"What?" Ashley asked, not understanding what could possibly be so amusing. "I don't get it..." Sam said nothing, however, and went into a light jog through the maze, obviously knowing her way around. "Sam!" She said nothing in reply, and only her shining, almost black locks of slightly curled hair were visible before she vanished completely. "Hey, wait, you're going to get lost without me!"

Ignoring the sinking feeling that something was not quite right, she pulled her hood over her head once more, and hurried after Samantha, hoping that she wouldn't be forced to find her in the extravagant maze around them, for it never stayed the same for very long.

It was to her advantage that Sam hadn't strayed far, and was in the middle of a supposedly confusing intersection, but Ashley saw right past it, and concentrated on the path directly behind her friend. "This way," she said, jogging through the maze, heading to the hidden entrance to the Assassin's underground fortress, still within the catacombs of Paris themselves, though it was no longer beneath the abandoned cathedral.

"How could you possibly remember how to navigate this place? Not even MY memory is that good!" Sam exclaimed, eyes narrowed as she watched her friend's movements. You're not even using your vision, Ash."

The brunette rolled her eyes, grinning mischievously. "I don't need it to do this. And you shouldn't either." She cocked her hooded head to the side, smiling broadly. "One day, I'll teach you how to be smart. And you will realize exactly how amazing I am."

"Shut up!" She retorted, yanking her friend's hood off abruptly, but she screeched when Ashley whirled around and gripped her neck, feeling a bone crushing under her unreal strength. Sam gasped, choking as she struggled to breathe, in shock. With a sickening snapping noise, Ashley dropped her friend, and she coughed violently, struggling to breathe, rubbing her pained neck. "What the absolute hell, Ash?"

"I was helping." She retorted, crossing her arms and smiling down at her. "You popped your neck."

Sam scoffed, staring at her disbelievingly. "Well you could've told me that!" She stood, and scowled. "Psychopath."

Surprising the both of them, a cheery masculine figure's laughter echoed in their ears, and both of them rolled their eyes, his British accent more than obvious. "Hello Scott." Ash said irritably, stretching lazily as he continued his cheery tone of voice.

"Hey, girls!" He exclaimed sarcastically. "How are you doing? Staying out of trouble, mates?" He may have seemed friendly, may have acted like it, and he may have even tried to be friendly, but it was their nature to respond in such a manner.

"-Asshole."

"-Canaglia."

They both laughed at his appalled face, his mother's Italian swearing enough to ensure his punishment was as extensive as it was. They continued past him, and through the maze, snickering under their hoods every time they looked back at his irked expression.

Ashely suddenly stopped, though Sam was oblivious to that much. "OOMPH!" She cried out, smacking into her stoic, unmoving friend, and falling backward into the grass and mud. "Hey!" She protested, eyes wide, though she wore a playful smile. "Watch it, you jerk."

Scott, who had rid himself of his snarky attitude, at least for the moment, reached down and clasped her wrist, pulling her to her feet and shaking his head. "That jerk saved your life, Sammy." He reminded her, delighting in her smile as she rolled her eyes, punching his arm playfully.

A loud, disturbing screech of metal wrecked their ears and the air around them, and the two hooded figures tensed, reaching for the hilts of their swords, though they felt as if their ears would bleed. When it finally stopped, an entrance, rusted metal and all was exposed, the endless abyss of darkness destroying and light cast within, and only the sigil of their brotherhood was visible.

"Come, Brother; Sister." Ashely said, relatively calm despite her otherwise wild manner. "Let us go and meet with the council, _Assassins_."


End file.
